Who'd Have Thought?
by ashatanii
Summary: Some day, you two gonna wake up in a bathtub together... Tom Selway. Not creepy, just funny. With Marty and Jim.
1. Chapter 1

_Who'd have thought?_

I

Russo's head was pounding. He groaned out loud, and tried to ease the pain. What? His found his hands tied at the wrist, painfully tight. Marty tried to open his eyes but the light was blinding, like the worst hangover he'd ever had but ten times over. Memories returned crowding into his head, vying for attention, confused and out of order.

Something cold and wet on his face, chloroform, a struggle, a yell. Chasing the suspect, gun shots. Tom, Tom had been hit, laying on the floor, blood pooling under him but telling Marty he was alright telling him to go get the perp.

Tom and Marty had been canvassing around the deserted building. Jim and Karen had taken the westside and Tom and Marty the east. The DOA had been found by a passing patrol car this morning. No ID and the possibility he lived on the streets. He had been shot in the back of the head and the shell casings and wound suggested a 9mm. With a large number of people squatting in the empty buildings on this street there was a chance someone would at least knew who he was. After speaking to two drunks who had seen nothing Tom and Marty surprised a tall black man coming out of an alley way. "Scuse me, you seen this man around here before?" Tom asked in a friendly tone. The man took one look at the Polaroid of the DOA and took off down the street at a run. Tom and Marty had chased him. "Stop, we just wanna ask a question." Tom shouted. The man slowed and turned. He looked from Tom to Marty and back, pulled out a gun from under his sweater and aimed. Tom dove to his right, "Ah, the sucker got me!" Marty squatted down next to Tom who was pulling his radio out with is right hand. "I'm okay, go get the bastard. I'll get us some backup." A trickle of blood ran down into his left hand.

So Marty had given full speed to catching the guy. No one was going to shoot his partner and get away. The man wasn't that fast. Marty was gaining on him with every step. The man disappeared into a deserted factory, Marty rounded the corner and… the memory became unclear.

Then, something wet on Marty's face? Maybe? The memory was unclear, hard to hold onto. Never mind, where was he now?

Marty squinted, there was a light shining straight in his face, a flood light of some kind, high powered and aimed right at him.

God, how long had he been out? Where was Tom now? Marty had never had a partner get hurt before. He struggled to remember how bad Tom's injury had been but couldn't draw out the memory. He had to go find Tom and make sure he was okay. Marty struggled, trying to bring his hands up to his face, but found they were tied behind his back. He tried pull his hands out of the crude bonds but there was no budge, the action brought shooting pains up his arms and it felt like his skin was tearing under the rough rope. His feet were hard up against a solid surface, so his knees were up close near his face. He tried to move his legs but they too were tied. He felt around with his hands behind his back but couldn't make out what was behind him, his hands were rather numb.

Marty sighed and took stock. He was sitting, hands tied behind his back and legs tied in front, with a strong light shining on him - but where was he? He titled his head and sneaked a peak out from under his eyelashes. He rested his aching head on his knees for a moment and then took another look around. The lights moved in a stream and he suspected whatever had been used to knock him out was still affecting his thinking, slowing it down like he was underwater.

Marty's eyes watered, partly from the effects of chloroform and partly from the brilliance of the lights. Through the blurring of tears he could make out a black and white pattern, checks, tiles - a bathroom. Shit, they'd dumped him in a bathtub. One of those fancy deep ones. Twisting and turning he tried to get his legs under him to stand but his shoes slipped on the wet enamel and he made no progress. Shit, his head sagged; this was bad, he'd need help to get out of this.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the lights. Although they were still painfully bright, he twisted to look around behind him.

Slap! "I don't think I want you moving just yet." A woman's voice through the ringing in his head, southern accent. Drawing out the last word.

Russo looked up to see a face in a leather mask, heavy kohl eyeliner, cold green eyes. Her lips were ruby red, teeth white except for two rubies inlaid in exceptionally long eyeteeth. "What do you want with me?"

"I think I'll just wait for your buddy here to wake up before I explain, that way I don't have to tell you twice." She tossed her hair, short waves of tawny gold, blonde and black rippled and she patted his cheek, her long red nails scoring his skin.

"Buddy?"

But the woman had gone. Confusion rose again, and Marty battered it down. Buddy? Tom? Was Tom, here, bleeding? Marty twisted hard where he sat but could see no one else in the bathroom.

"Tom? Tom?" He called out loud but no response. Shit, Tom must be in a bad way – even a small gunshot wound meant bleeding and if he was here instead of getting fixed up… In his confusion Marty couldn't figure out where Tom could be. Then he realized- the bath, he had assumed he was the only one in it, but perhaps that surface behind him was Tom's back. He twisted, trying vainly to see behind him but he'd been tied too well, too tight and the sides of the bath were restricting. Marty moved his fingers, in, out, in out, trying to get some blood back into them. Then he tried feeling behind him. If Tom was tied in the same way, he should be able to feel his hands. But all he could feel was a solid surface, was that fabric? Like a jacket? Maybe a belt? He couldn't be sure. But if this was Tom, he was in trouble, and needed help, even if it was from the green eyed nightmare who had put them here.

"Hey, hello, hey get in here." Marty called out, his own voice causing the pain in his head to spike.

The woman stalked in, heels clicking on the tiles and stood in front of the spotlight. With the light behind her she was hardly more than a shadow; tall, high heels, and a large bore pistol. He hoped that was not the weapon Tom had been shot with.

Another slap, it snapped his head back and he shook it to push the daze away.

She brought her masked face down close to his, her hair fell forward, brushing his forehead and her scent caressed him. It was soft and pleasant, like her voice. "I told you I didn't want to talk to you until your buddy woke up."

"Well if he doesn't get some help, he may not wake up. Last time I saw him he was bleeding pretty bad from a gunshot wound. He needs a hospital. And since you haven't killed us, I'm assuming you don't want to go down for cop killing?"

She stalked around and out of his sight. "He's not shot. I don't know what you're talking about."

Marty felt a push on his back.

"He's just sleeping. More of a sound sleeper than you."

"Hey buddy, wake up." A slap could be heard. "Wakey, wakey pretty one."

Pretty one? Marty had never heard Tom described that way. "Come on little prince, your buddy's getting impatient and so am I!" Another slap. "Wake up!" The sweet voice became a roar and Marty felt a jolt as the man behind him woke.

He could hear rapid breathing, felt the man move behind him, and heard a scrape and echoing crack. "Tom?"

Another slap echoed. "No talking; either of you."

Marty was glad there was no accompanying slam against his head. But he wished the other person had at least gotten a word out so he'd know who it was. He tried to remember who else had been in the deserted factory, but his head was still fuzzy from the chloroform. Some uniformed officers, maybe Karen and Jim, but they had been outside as far as Marty knew, and the assailant had said _him_, so that ruled out Karen.

"You may be wondering why I've invited you here today." The woman spoke as if she were addressing an S&M convention, voice deep with innuendo and well prepared. "Well, you are being used as ransom, dear boys. The United States government picked up someone very dear to me recently and despite all the best attorneys, despite the fact that he is innocent of all the charges against him and despite the fact that he is a very good man, a pillar of society, they continue to hold him illegally in custody. So, I have decided to take matters into my own hands. To play vigilante if you will."

She paraded around the bathtub as she spoke, heels clicking. She spoke and walked like a woman of power, she dressed like superhero or more likely a super villan. Marty was getting dizzy trying to follow her with his eyes.

"You will be my guests for a little while, until the police department releases my dear husband. So, make yourself comfortable, you may have to wait a while."

And with that she was gone, heels clicking on the tiles, the door locked and bolted and quiet.

"Marty?" It wasn't Tom's voice, Marty felt relief that his partner wasn't here bleeding to death behind him. But he dropped his head to his knees again - of all the people…


	2. Chapter 2

_Who'd have thought?_

ii

"Marty?" It wasn't Tom's voice, Marty felt relief that his partner wasn't here bleeding to death behind him. But he dropped his head to his knees again - of all the people…

"Marty?"

"Yeah, Jim." Marty's exasperation showed in his voice.

"Where the fuck are we? What happened?"

"Ah, I dunno Dunbar." He felt Jim struggling against his bonds, another clang as Jim's feet kicked out and hit his end of the bathtub.

"Sounds like tiles, small room, what can you see?"

"Ah, yeah a bathroom, we're in a bath, high sides, there are really bright lights on us, well, at this end anyhow.

"And the woman?" Jim swayed, his voice slurred, a sound escaped- in between a sigh and a groan.

"Dunbar, stay with me."

"My hands, I can't feel them." Jim struggled at his bonds.

Marty heard a sharp indrawn breath and a whimper. Jeez Marty sighed under his breath and dropped his head back to his knees.

Some deeper breaths and then Dunbar spoke, his voice growing stronger. "The woman, can you describe her?"

"Black leather mask, big gun, green eyes, dressed like a dominatrix or something."

"Sounded like a nutcase. Your head pounding?"

"Yeah, chloroform."

"Your hands tied too?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, these ropes are real bad, we… I … I can't loose my hands, we gotta move. How about … we try and… stand together?" Jim was panting again between words.

"Yeah alright, one, two…"

On three they pushed hard against each other's backs and managed to get upright. The bath was slippery and Marty's head reeled, Jim unbalanced and they fell, tumbling out of the bath and landing heavily on the floor. Marty tried to sit up but found he was tied, hands to hands, to Jim. The ropes were interlocked and Marty couldn't get enough leverage to sit Jim's body up as well as his own. _I'll hold my own around here._ Jim's words of a few months ago replayed in Marty's head.

"Fuck! Jim? …" He kept his voice at a harsh whisper, "Dunbar?"

But Jim was silent, Marty tried to turn but this was impossible too. Straining, the best he could do was slide on the tiles, dragging Dunbar around with him. Damn, there was blood on the floor, fresh. Russo hung his aching head. What now? Had he just cracked Dunbar's head open on the floor?

"Hey! Hey you! Cat woman!" he called out. He'd probably just earned another smack across the head but he couldn't let Dunbar bleed to death behind him.

"What have you done?" She was on her knees next to them, her gun clattered noisily to the floor. "You've fucking killed him, you idiot." Crack! There, that was the slap across his head he had he'd been dreading. She stood in front of them. He looked up from the floor, head ringing and gasped. With the light shining on her instead of behind he got his first really good look. She was wearing skin tight black polished leather. It ran from her ankles up to her neck, with slashes along her thighs, between her breasts, as if she had been fighting with swords. She belonged in the pages of a high class smut magazine.

Then her words sunk in, killed him? "No, no let me see, goddamn it, let me see him."

"No, I can't let you go until I have my man back, no way. You're trying to trick me."

Gone was the sweet voice, the caressing tones. This was a woman who was domineering and cold.

"Listen you stupid bitch. If you don't let me see him, you might have a dead cop on your hands and no one is going to swap your precious hubby for a dead cop so you better let me take a look."

She stood, hands on her hips, gun in the crook of her elbow as if she were posing for a DVD cover. She cocked her head, considering. "Alright, I'm going to loosen your hands, but you're legs are staying tied. And I've got a big gun here and I know how to shoot. You look at the pretty one and do nothing else – you hear."

"Yeah, I hear you, now let me free."

She knelt down in front of him, her breasts bulging and threatening to slide out from her costume. He blinked, unable to pull his eyes away. She pulled at the rope and stepped out of range. "Now, tug, you should be able to free your hands."

He wiggled his hands behind him and they slid free. The blood rushing back in was excruciating. He groaned and rubbed the life back into his shaking hands and aching arms, watching her from under his eyelashes. She tapped her foot impatiently. "Alright, enough, now stop looking at me and look at the other one."

Russo turned, not sure what he'd find. Blood pooled on the floor under the blonde head, probably not enough to signal real trouble – even superficial scalp wounds bled copiously. Jim's head was tilted back and his eyes closed as if asleep. His legs were tied at the ankles around his high top boots. But Dunbar's hands were tied tightly behind him, turning a nasty color. Marty's ropes had hurt but this was much tighter. He grimaced; he'd thought Dunbar was exaggerating but this was no joke. His words echoed in Marty's head. _I can't lose my hands._

Marty placed a hand on Jim's throat, and found his pulse, strong, regular. Should he tell her or could he use this as a way to get out? "He's alive, but I think he's hurt bad, he's not going to make it tied up like this."

Russo moved to untie Jim but stopped as soon as the gun barrel pushed cold into his neck.

The woman growled deep in her throat. "You think I'm stupid?"

Marty raised his hands in the air slowly. "No, but I guess you're not trained in first aid or you would see that this guy is bleeding to death. I need to lay him flat on his back and I can't do it while his hands are tied."

Russo watched as expressions flitted past her mouth and in her eyes, the only parts of her face that were visible. She seemed undecided, possibly worried. Marty moved his hands slowly. "I'm just going to untie the hands and –"

"Wait. Move back." She motioned with the gun barrel.

Marty scooted back a short distance and watched.

The woman moved over in front of Jim. "Okay pretty boy, I've got my gun trained on your buddy here, and if you're faking, he get's it."

She clicked the safety off and aimed at Marty. Then she nudged Jim with her foot. Not a flicker of movement from Jim. Her eyes slid from Marty back to Jim. Russo could see her thigh and calf muscles flex through the slashes in her pants as she pulled her booted foot back and drove it into Jim's stomach - hard. Marty gasped, Jim lay still. She smiled sweetly at Jim and patted his bleeding head. "Good boy." She brought her hand up to her mouth and licked a drop of blood.

"Alright do it, but retie his hands in front of him"

Russo knelt over the unconscious man, worked the knots free and pushed his arms down. The hands felt cold, lifeless and looked bloated. When he turned Jim onto his back, blood welled from a cut on his forehead, thickening now.

"Wake him up." She motioned with her gun.

Slowly, gently Marty patted the side of Jim's face. "Wake up, Dunbar, wake up."

Marty watched as Dunbar dragged himself back to consciousness.

Jim's breathing changed, he opened his eyes, blinked several times then rolled over to his side in fetal position, bring his knees up and clutching his hands in front on him. "Fuck, oh fuck, oh, shit." The groan was pure agony. Marty could see a tear squeezing from between Jim's tightly closed eyelids.

Marty looked up, his relief mirrored in the woman's eyes, though she still held the gun. "Dunbar."

"Yeah, I'm here," Dunbar panted. His body betrayed the pain he tried to keep from his voice. Hands moving slowly, Jim struggled to flex the bloated fingers. His shoulders rounded, he curled around his gut, shuddering with each breath.

Soon his breathing slowed and deepened. He opened his eyes. "Marty? What happened?" Jim moved to sit up.

The woman stepped back again and raised her gun.

Marty shook his head; keeping his eyes glued to the woman's face he put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Stay still buddy. This lady has her gun is aimed at us. She doesn't like the fact that I untied your hands."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, Thanks Marty, I owe you one." He brought his head up and spoke to the woman. "I'm going to sit up. I'm not going anywhere. I won't even try to stand."

She nodded down at him, "No surprises." And watched fascinated as the blonde detective struggled to his knees while keeping his hands from touching the floor. She admired the effort and smiled gently. Finally he knelt, hands in his lap, panting again, head bowed. Perfect. She wished they had met under other circumstances. The single tear sat high on his cheek. Blood dripped from the cut on his forehead and another beautiful red spot painted a white square of floor. She smiled benignly down and licked her lips. "Better?"

Although she still held the gun aimed at Jim's head, she seemed concerned about the blood on the floor and on his face. Marty was disgusted by her gentle tone and must have made a sound. Her eyes slid sideways and the gun barrel followed. Russo felt the skin on his neck and back rise as her warm eyes froze over, her soft smile hardening into an uncompromising slash. Their eyes locked in an almost physical embrace.

"Thanks. They feel better already." Jim's voice matched hers, it flowed over them all and around the diamond clear message between Russo and the cat woman.

She reached over with a gentle hand and stroked Jim's head. "Your head; how's your head?" Jim flinched and Marty tensed, but the woman seemed unfazed.

"It's here, I can feel it. It's in better shape than my hands." He lifted his head and his blue gaze looked deceptively clear. "So, what do we need to do to get out here?"

"Nothing _you_ can do. I'm going to let the department know I have you and they'll let my honey go and then you can go too."

"Really? Okay, can we have some aspirin in the meantime?" Jim sounded reasonable, almost like he was making conversation. Did he really think a woman like this would make conversation? Marty wondered what that knock on the head had done.

"Maybe."

And she walked out. Slammed the door behind her and locked it.

"She gone?"

"Yeah," Marty said as he watched Dunbar sit up a little more and work to ease his stiff neck. Marty got to work untying the rope on his own ankles. The rough strands were sharp through his socks. "Your head really alright?"

"Sure. What happened, chloroform again?"

"No, we stood up in the tub, remember?"

Jim started to shake his head, but his expression showed it was not a good idea. Clearly he didn't remember their attempt. "Yeah, I guess." Jim continued flexing his hands and grimacing at the pain. Marty watched as Jim ran his hand along the floor. When he found the bath tub they had been in he scooted over and leaned against it.

"Well, we were tied together by the hands, we managed to stand up but, as soon as we did you tipped over. Next thing I know, we're on the floor and you're out cold." Marty wondered if the falling was a blind thing – probably.

Working to restore the circulation in his hands, head down Jim's words were muffled. "Sorry 'bout that."

Marty ignored the comment, finished untying his legs. "Truth was - I was a bit worried about you."

Jim grinned. "Well that's a first. Karen will never believe me when I tell her."

"Better get your legs untied too and we'll see if we can get out of here before Cat Woman comes back."

"Cat Woman?" Jim brought his legs up in front of him and tried to undo the ropes but his hands really weren't working too well.

"Yeah, you gotta see this woman, sort of like playboy at Halloween. My mind can't make up whether to get turned on or be really scared." Marty stood over Jim. "You need help with that?"

"No, I'll manage; you look for a way out. Hey, is your phone and stuff gone too?"

Marty patted his pockets, angry he hadn't even thought to check. That chloroform really messed with your thinking. But his phone, his radio and most importantly his gun were missing. "Yeah. What sort of room is this, there's no window anywhere, only one door?"

Marty rattled the door, a few feet from where Jim still sat in front of the bath. "Locked tight. Maybe we just hide behind the door and overpower her when she comes back in?"

Then he noticed Dunbar hadn't made any headway on the ropes. He pursed his lips. "Your hands okay?"

"Not really, they're still kind of numb." Jim failed to keep the worry from his face though his voice stayed calm.

Marty squatted down to undo the ropes tying Jim's ankles. Squatting down in front of Jim, with his back to the door Marty had no time to react when a screech reached his ears and a boot thudded into his side, expelling all his breath.

"You ungrateful wretch! What do you think you are doing?" She unbalanced him easily, his head and knees smacking the floor next to Dunbar's boots.

Marty's face was pressed into a white tile. That red bloodspot that had fallen from Dunbar's head was an inch from his nose. The cold barrel of the gun was pressed into the flesh of Marty's neck and he could feel the trembling of the woman's arm through the metal. Her booted foot was on his back and her thin heel dug through his jacket and shirt into his spine. He dared not take more than a sip of air, and his head reeled again.

"Put your hands behind your back. Now!"

Marty hesitated, the door was open, maybe he could - "Marty, do what she asks."

Scowling, Marty slowly put his hands behind him, and felt the rope being secured. He was pushed off his knees and his ankles were re-tied.

Slap, Marty heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but felt no impact. Dunbar must have copped that one. Good. "And you; have you untied yourself too?"

"No."

Her voice changed, honey with whiskey, almost purring. "Aw, what a good boy you are. Here you can have the aspirin you asked for."

Out of sight Marty heard water being swallowed and splashing to the floor.

"Thank you. Can Russo have some?"

Her voice was cold again, ice and vodka. "He's been bad."

"But you chloroformed him too right?" Again that reasonable, conversational tone that made Marty want to shoot Dunbar himself.

"Yes. And your point is?"

"So, it's only fair."

She threw the packet at Jim; it hit his chest and landed on his hands. "Okay you give it to him." Her boot left Marty's back but before he could feel the relief it re-entered, toe first into his thigh, the sharp point dug into his flesh, and she stalked out while he gasped in pain.

Marty felt a touch on his arm as he lay prone on the floor. "Here you want this? Aspirin's the only way to counteract the fog after chloroform, otherwise you won't be thinking straight for hours. "

His anger boiled out in words. "What the fuck you doing?" Marty struggled to sit upright and turned around to face Jim. On his knees, hands tied behind his back he got up close to Jim's face and enjoyed watching as Jim recoiled, blinking, eyes darting from side to side.

"What do you mean?"

"You know this woman or something?"

"No, at least I don't think so. I don't recognize her voice, why?" Jim's brows furrowed, it looked like he was squinting. Marty rolled his eyes, Jim always played this card. "Well she seems to like you an awful lot."

Jim relaxed visibly. "Russo, you do kidnapping at John Jay?"

"Of course, we all had to do a unit." He forced the words out from between his clenched teeth.

"At the 2-5, I worked a whole string of kidnapping cases. Most times kidnappers are crazy and either want to terrorize you or treat you like a child. I figured her for the second type."

"Maybe to you she is, but she sure likes to terrorize me."

"Okay, so maybe she comes from both angles but I figure it's a better bet to play good cop, rather than bad cop 'til we know more."

Jim waited. When Marty had cooled somewhat and grunted his answer, Jim asked, "Now you want this aspirin?"

"Yeah." Russo glared but clearing his head was more important than Dunbar's crap.

Jim held the packet and the water bottle out toward Marty.

"She's tied my hands behind my back"

"No problem."

Marty watched as Jim fumbled with the packet, it fell from his still bloated hands to the floor. Marty turned away; watching Dunbar fumble around on the floor after aspirin was too much. Of all the cops in New York, he had to be kidnapped with the blind one. If this man delayed him getting out of here, and Tom paid the price, he'd write such a damning report that Jim would spend every last day as a cop behind a desk.

"Here, open your mouth."

It was probably good that Jim couldn't see the look of disgust and distain that painted Marty's face as the older detective fed him aspirin and water.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Who'd have thought?_

iii

Ten minutes later Marty's headache had just about gone and he could feel the difference in his thinking already.

The color started returning to Jim's hands as he continued to work them. Finally he recovered enough dexterity to loosen the ropes around Marty's hands. But as Marty rubbed his wrists gratefully Jim had to stick his foot in it again. "I don't know what she'll do if she sees them untied. I think we should make it look like you're still bound."

Marty resented the ropes, his shoulders were hurting from the unnatural position and she could be gone for hours. But, there was some sense in what Dunbar said. He let him replaced the bonds but tied so that Marty could easily pull the knot open. He sorted out his ankle bonds so he could walk in a short gait and again one pull would release him. Jim ran his hands over the ropes that he had just tied behind Marty's back. "Do you think they'll fool her?"

Marty turned abruptly and stared at Jim. "How should I know -I can't see behind my back. And how are _you_ gonna tell?"

Marty untied Dunbar's ankles and then sneered silently as Jim replaced the ropes, loosely but not obviously so. He hated cops that sucked up, this one sucked up not only to his senior officers but this demented perp.

Russo explored the whole room, annoyed but not prevented by the ropes. But he found nothing he could use. There was no window, nothing that could be used as a weapon, in fact, nothing that was not fixed to a wall, ceiling or floor.

Dunbar asked annoying questions about the room, what Marty remembered from the canvass and the events leading up to waking in the bathtub. Russo sketched out what he knew and enjoyed watching Jim's eyes widen as he described their captor and her costume. Poor bastard hadn't even seen a sexy woman for at least a year. At least Marty got the pleasure of watching her while she tormented them. "And when she squats in from of you, those slashes in her –"

But he was interrupted. "Sh." Jim cocked his ear toward the door. "Footsteps, it's her."

A moment later she entered carrying an old fashioned video camera on a tripod.

"Your head feeling better, pretty boy?' She smiled a huge warm smile beneath her mask. The red lips glistening and beautiful, even white teeth shinning. The rubies glimmered.

Marty nudged Jim. "She means you."

"Oh, yes thanks. Much better. Did you speak to the department?" He sounded so sincere - mind you, so did she.

"Yeah, they didn't believe me. Treated me like a nuisance call. Fucking cops, always checking me out, or ignoring me, never just look me in the eye." She squatted before Jim, straightened his jacket and looked at him expectantly. "I absolutely hate being treated like eye candy. At least you're not treating me that way."

Jim's smile was rueful. "No, I'm not going to do that. But…"

She was eating out of his hand and she didn't seem surprised that Dunbar kept his eyes from her cleavage. From where Marty sat it looked like he was doing that thing, where he seemed to make eye contact. Marty had never figured how he did it, or why. Creepy. Marty watched in wonder as she moved back from her position inches away from Jim, where her breasts had threatened to leave their leather. She frowned at the man in front of her. "What?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know what to call you?"

She reached out and ran her long red nail down the side of his face. Marty couldn't figure out why he didn't flinch. "Call me Puss, darling, all my friends call me Puss." The purr was back in her voice.

"Okay, Puss, maybe Russo and I can get them to listen, why don't you get them on the phone and let us talk?"

She stood, looked from Jim to Marty and back. She gave Jim another smile and a pat on the cheek. "No need, I got something better. See this camera? We're going to make a movie and then they'll know I have you. Just give me a few minutes to set up."

"Can we talk while you set up?"

"Sure baby. What do you want to talk about?"

"Puss, who's your husband?"

"Oh, Jimmy the Knife."

Jim's eyebrows climbed his face.

"Jimmy the knife, serial killer Jimmy the knife?" Marty interjected.

She turned on him faster than a cat defending kittens. Marty felt the breeze as her gun traveled past his face and she brought her eyes within inches of his. Her voice had edge, like a freshly sharpened hacksaw. "You say that again and I will cut you into little pieces, and you'll make it into the next batch of Cat Chow." He could smell her soft perfume, musky and salty, but floral and feminine. "The chicken variety." In his peripheral vision he could see her pale arm muscles contracting through the slashes in her leather, her chest rose as she pulled in air and the red line of her mouth was sharp enough to cut. At that moment Marty had no doubt she would do exactly as she said.

"I… I… Didn't… mean…" The cold in his stomach made it hard to Marty to get enough breath to get his words out.

Jim spoke up from beside them, "Puss, we only know what we hear, don't blame Marty for the lies someone else told him." Dunbar still sounded calm. Puss' eyes moved away from Marty's reluctantly. She would have enjoyed carrying out that threat. Marty and Puss both looked at Jim. Jim continued as if unaware of the danger that had just passed so close by. "You know it was the 7-5 that picked your husband up? Not us, we're with the 8th." She sighed. The tension dropped.

She put her index finger to her mouth in parody of someone considering. "Hm, I thought you guys were all together, you know, the thin blue line?"

Jim chuckled, "Ah, PR, you know, even Russo and I, we work together and sometimes, I bet even he'd like to kill me."

A small smile caught at the side of Puss' mouth, it spread and she joined Jim in his chuckle, as she turned back Marty decided he'd better join in too. But when her eyes returned to his they were cold and devoid of any latitude. His chuckle died at birth.

"I want a good background for your movies boys." She wandered behind Marty's back and he listened to her heels clicking around the bathroom.

"You been married long?" Jim could have been talking to a woman at a bar for all the tension that showed in his voice.

"Newly weds. We just got back from Niagara falls this week." Puss stretched a sheet of black velvet over the rail surrounding the bathtub. Marty strained to keep an eye on her. She smiled, noticing him watching her. Like a fussy housewife, she brushed lint off it.

"Hey, Puss, that's where me and my wife went. 'Bout 6 six years ago now. That great restaurant over looking the water - Noir 17."

"Yeah, we had dinner there the night of our wedding. Great lobster and great chocolate cake." Now she positioned the flood light.

"You elope?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, you?"

"Sort of." He smiled as if at a pleasant memory.

She chuckled, "If that guy hadn't started hassling us to make space in his hotel, and then if Jimmy hadn't gotten those calls to come back to work we might still be there now." She moved the camera and stand into position.

"Ours was cut short too, had to get back to the job. Sounds like what happened to you and Jimmy?"

Puss put her head back and laughed out loud, hands on her hips, her chest rose and fell melodiously - it was almost fascinating. Under any other circumstances, Marty would probably have felt like joining in. But if he wasn't mistaken, she had just said that Jimmy the Knife had killed that hotel owner and had to cut short their honeymoon to get back and do some more killings in New York. "We're in the same business after all – just different ends. I like you pretty boy, I really do. You have a unique way of looking at things."

"Call me-"

Again her speed and reflexes astounded Marty. From behind the camera she was around and in front of Jim before he took his next breath. Puss interrupted - a finger on Jim's lips – he was frozen. "No baby, no names, if I know your name it's harder if I have to … you know."

Jim nodded and dropped his head.

"Good. Now be quiet for a minute while I set this up." She took the power cord and looked for an outlet. She narrowed her eyes and searched the edge of the floor. As she came close to where the two men sat against the bath her eyes traveled to the bonds that tied Marty's hands.

The hair on his arms stood up as her gaze traveled over him and their eyes met and locked again. Her voice was like iced water thrown in a rage and he felt his gut clench as she moved in on him. "Your ropes aren't tight enough, big boy. You have been very, very bad." She made him kneel, his head between his legs and put her stiletto on his back, digging in so deep her whimpered. "Move one inch and I will have my heel through your kidney and a bullet in your head, baby."

She retied the rope and moved back. "Sit. Head down – penance." He did as he was told, his face flushed and burning.

Then she checked Jim's bonds, happy with the ankles but not with the hands. He flinched as she pulled them tighter. "Puss, it's too tight, really." Desperation sounded in his voice.

"No sweetie, not until you've helped me get my hubbie back." She gave him a smile the rope an extra yank. Marty watched as Jim's face paled and a small shudder ran through his body and he swayed, eyes blinking and slowly closed as he slumped sideways.

"No, Jim –" Marty copped a full force backhander across the face that banged his head into the enamel tub and the light began to fade.

Jim allowed himself to slump, to reassure her of her position but the blood was singing in Jim's ears and panic began to rise at the thought of his hands being damaged permanently.

The door slammed and locks engaged. He raised his head and began straining at his wrists.

He felt Marty's shoulder nudge his arm, "Marty?" Marty's body started to slide downward, Jim grabbed him by am arm and slowed his decent. Running his hand along Marty's head, he found a slight cut on his forehead, wet, some blood. Not enough to knock him out. He kept searching - there - at the back of his head a lump already starting to rise. Jim knelt, found the taps of the bath and ran cold water, he scooped some up in his trembling hands, already the pins and needles were beginning again, and threw it in Marty's direction. He waited. "Marty?" No sound. He placed him hands under the cold water again and bit his lip, forcing his hands to be steady as he filled them, then carefully lifted his arms over the tub. He found Marty's shoulder with his knees and Marty's face with the back of his hand. He let the water fall.

Jim was pushed back, onto his ass as Marty lunged forward, with the shock. "What the…"

"Marty, it's me, Jim, you okay?"

"Yeah, what…" he remembered. "That bitch hit me?"

"I guess, although from the lump on the back of your head it was contact with the bath that knocked you out."

Marty was seething. He felt like slugging Dunbar one. "Sure, your girlfriend was just playing with me, I know." His head hurt and he was trapped in an echoing bathroom with a man who wouldn't shut up.

"How bad is it?" Jim finally sounded worried. Marty rolled his eyes.

"I'd say pretty bad, my gun is gone, we have no phones or radios and cat woman doesn't even seem to like you anymore."

Jim drew a long breath. "I meant your head. You got double vision, ringing?"

"Nah, it's fine, doesn't even hurt much."

"Good. Alright." He held his hands out toward Marty. "Do you think you could loosen these? Even a little bit, or I'm screwed."

The last thing Russo wanted to do was help Dunbar right now. He looked the ropes over, possibly there was some give. "Yeah, hold still, I have to turn around. He fumbled behind his back. Jim was silent other than an indrawn gasp when he yanked at the rope to get some stretch. He managed to loosen them a little. "How's that?"

Dunbar turned back, "Better, thanks. How long do you think we've been here? They should be looking for us, taking her call seriously. It doesn't sound right that they think it's a crank call."

"I don't know, Dunbar, you're the kidnap expert aren't you?" Sarcasm went unchecked on his face, in his voice. He turned away.

Jim sighed, his turn to look disgusted. "Fine, if you want to blame me for this go ahead. If you can come up with a plan to get out of here, I'll do whatever you need. Maybe you can get away and send someone back for me."

Marty smiled, "Or not." He watched as Jim moved his tied hands up to his face and rubbed at his eyebrow, paying no mind to Marty's snipe.

"So, she's got a camera and she's what? Going to take pictures and send them to the department?"

"It's a video camera."

"Do you think she'll need to put the gun down to operate it?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Alright, what can we do with this?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you see her in a vulnerable position we need to jump her there and then. If you give the word I'll launch myself at her and you make for the door. How's that sound?"

"You could do that?"

"Sure."

Marty looked at Jim. As long as he got in close he'd stand a good chance. This sounded feasible actually, as long as -"Do you think she's alone in this?"

Jim pursed his lips, then shook his head "I have no idea."

"It sounds a bit dangerous, Jim. I might not like you, but launching yourself at an armed woman? Karen would kill me."

"Then only give the word if you think I've got a chance, okay?" Jim sounded disgusted again, his expression pained.

"I didn't mean –" Marty was interrupted by the return of the woman carrying a plastic chair in one hand.

"You." She indicated Marty. "Italian Stallion, scoot over there, out of the way."

Marty did as he was told moving several feet to the wall next to the basin.

"You, pretty boy, sit in the chair."

Jim got to his knees and stood, Marty could see he was a little unsteady, was that having his feet tied or did he have a concussion from the fall earlier? Would he be able to take the woman down if it came to it? Or would he just throw himself at the thin air and ruin their chance? "Where's the chair, Puss?"

She looked up sharply. "Don't play funny games with me. It's right in front of you, now sit."

Jim just sighed and reached out with his tied hands, meeting the back of the chair in a few inches. He hopped around and seated himself.

She pointed the gun at Marty. "Now you be quiet 'til he's done."

"State your name, badge number and whatever else there is official wise and then tell them what happened to you."

"Detective James Dunbar, 9544, I'm with the 8th precinct. I was canvassing outside the deserted factory at approximately 11 am on the 15th. A wet rag was held over my mouth and nose, I assume it was chloroform. I woke up tied up in a bathtub with Detective Russo. We've been treated all right."

"Good, you're good; you should be in the movies. Now get up and give your buddy a go."

Jim stood, wishing he could communicate silently to Marty. Was there a moment here when she was off guard, running the camera? Two sighted cops could have watched for that moment, made eye contact - acted in concert. Once more he felt the edge of his capability like a stone wall, unyielding. As it stood he'd have to rely on Russo to notice and hope that Marty gave him some clue as to what was needed. He turned, listening for Marty. Nothing. Puss prodded him with the gun barrel and he hopped back until he felt the bath behind him.

"You're next."

Marty sat in the chair. "Detective Martin Russo, I'm with the 8th Precinct. We were chasing a guy, 5'10" or so, black, heavy built, he shot Tom –"

Gun fire erupted; Marty threw himself to the floor, and heard Jim landing hard behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Who'd have thought?_

_iii_

For a moment in the silence after the gunfire only the woman's heavy breathing could be heard.

Then Jim's voice roared."Marty?"

Whack! The side of Marty's head felt like it was on fire.

"Did I tell you to say that? Did I? Did I?" The woman screeched dementedly. Marty turned around slowly to check Jim. He was okay, lying on the floor, eyes wide, breathing heavily but not shot. Thank god he wasn't shot. Slowly Marty turned back.

Holes, he could see holes in the tiles, big holes, several. One in the white tile where his head had lain earlier. He could see the drop of blood drying next to the hole. How had she managed to get off so many shots so quickly? He looked back, her chest was heaving. The camera lay on the floor behind her boots, pieces scattered. She had knocked it to the floor in her haste to get to him. His gaze traveled up and her eyes locked onto his.

For the second time Dunbar's voice poured around them as they held each other's eyes, hatred crackling hot and bright between them. "Puss? What have you done? Please tell me you didn't shoot Marty?" Jim was almost breathless, he struggled to get to his knees and up.

The gun never wavered from Marty's face. She wanted it. All she needed from him was an excuse. A word or another movement and she would kill him.

Jim stepped into their peripheral vision, standing now, moving forward, bound hands in front of him. "Marty?" Soon Jim would step unwittingly between the gun and Marty.

The woman's brow wrinkled she glanced at Jim and quickly back to Marty. She moved the gun from Marty's face to Jim's.

The blonde one stood a few feet in front of her, blue eyes darting but not landing on anything. She watched; he was listening. The question formed in her mind. She reached into a pocket around the back of her suit and pulled a pack of cigarettes out. Keeping her eyes on Jim's she tossed it to the side, where it landed, a soft plop on the tiles, and watched as his head turned to the sound. "Marty?" he asked again and took another step forward.

Puss stepped back before Jim's hands got too close, her smile growing. The look she gave Jim was affectionate again, motherly even.

"I'm okay, Jim. I'm not shot."

Puss stepped silently around Jim and kicked Marty in the head but it was weak, an after thought.

She grabbed the camera and left, closing the door softly behind her. The door locks clicked over.

"What happened?" Panic still colored Jim's voice.

Marty shrugged.

"Marty?"

"I guess she didn't like me leaving clues in my message."

"She hurt you?"

"It's nothing…" Marty could see Jim didn't know if he should believe him or not but he dropped it.

"It was a good idea, putting that info in. I hope she gives it to them…." He took another step toward Marty, who hadn't moved from the floor. "You're awfully quiet, what's going on? You sure she didn't hurt you?"

"No, I just… you were behind me when she fired, I … I thought she shot you."

Jim nodded, clearly he understood. "Got it. Okay." And he was back to business. "What did she drop? Anything we can use?"

"Nah, cigarette packet."

"Is there a window, maybe we can blow smoke signals?"

"No, I told you there's no win…" Marty looked at Jim's straight face. A laugh, not his, it couldn't be, began rumbling down in his throat, and although he tried to suppress it, it bubbled up and out.

Soon they were both sitting with their backs to the bath, laughing quietly.

"Oh, it must have been too long since I had a laugh, this hurts." Jim held his hands to his stomach.

"Ah, that's probably from when she booted you in the guts."

Jim gave Marty that _What you talking about?_ look.

"Before she let me untie your hands, she wanted to make sure you weren't faking it – you know, from falling out of the bath."

Jim shook his head, taking Marty's word for it. "Nice lady, huh? And you were telling me how attractive she was? How long we been in here?"

"I don't know my watch is tied behind my back."

"Here." Jim thrust his hands in front of Marty.

Marty looked at the time piece, white face and black roman numerals. "Oh, it's like a regular watch?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "And it says?"

"3:30"

"Good, they've got to be looking for us by now."

"Do you think she moved us far?"

"Only if she has an accomplice, seeing as we were both out cold."

"God, I could use another aspirin. Do you think you can get your girlfriend to pop us one?"

"I can try. Puss? Puss!" Jim called.

The door opened, both men looked shocked at the fast response. Jim said the first thing that came to his mind. "Puss, do you think we could have some more aspirin?"

"Sure thing sweetie," she walked over and squatted in front of Jim with a bottle and the pills. When she saw the way Marty was watching her. Jim got a slap instead.

"What was that for?"

"Your buddy here, Marty is it? He is looking like he'd like to jump me."

"No, he'd never do that."

"You can't see his face, so you'll have to believe me, right?" She watched him closely.

When Jim nodded reluctant agreement she continued. "Well, anyway, I've been doing some homework. You are a very _famous _cop, Detective James Dunbar. I think I scored big time when I picked you up. Maybe I don't need him."

"Well, then you could give Marty a letter of demand and throw him out; he can go negotiate for you?" Jim's reasonable tone was back and by her expression it was doing its job.

"Hmm." Puss smiled indulgently at Jim. She stroked his hair back from his forehead. "Hold out your hands." She dropped the aspirin in, watched him take it to his mouth. "Water."She teased his hands with the bottle, letting him brush it, then moving it away. She enjoyed the small tightening of his lips as he reaslied she was playing with him. He stopped searching and she dropped it into his lap.

Jim removed the lid and drank, bring up a charming smile to cover his anger. "So, will you give Marty the tape too, or just a letter to take?"

She gave a full throated laugh. "Oh you are funny! No wonder he was laughing when I came in." She grabbed her cigarette pack and lit one up. "I'd offer you guys one but you seem a little tied up right now." She laughed long at her own joke. Jim smiled but Marty just couldn't manage to do even that. She blew smoke in his face. "No, I think I'll keep our Italian Stallion a little longer, but I think you were right all along sweet thing - a phone call with you might get me somewhere." She blew smoke at Marty and poked her tongue out at him.

"I've had the video taken into the precinct that grabbed my husband and I'm going to call them soon. I'll need you to talk for me."

Jim nodded his agreement. "We do what you want, we get to go, right ,Puss?" He held the bottle out and she took it.

Puss tore her gaze from Jim and turned to Marty. Her voice remained pleasant but her eyes narrowed and he smile had a nasty edge. "You need another of these?" She brought two aspirin from the packet and although Marty held his mouth closed tightly she forced them past his lips. She brought the gun around between his eyes. "Swallow." She held the bottle to his lips and tipped.

"Yes, pretty boy, you have my word. That's only fair. Though I'll be sorry to see you go. I think I could have some very good fun with you." She ran a long red nail down Jim's chest. "It's been ages since I saw my honey." She moved closer, inching toward Jim. Marty watched; this could be the moment. There was no way Jim could miss if he went for her now. Marty waited for just the right moment to give the signal.

She turned and held Marty's eyes. She propped the barrel on his forehead again. "Now, Detective Dunbar, I've got my gun on your buddy's head so, don't struggle.

"And you shouldn't think I can't do two things at once." Marty nodded at her, fascinated, repulsed, intrigued.How far would this woman take this?

Confusion entered Jim's eyes. "What –"

"Sh. She put her finger on his lips again and leaned in close. And she planted little red kisses on his face, ignoring his flinch, his stoic visage. "Hmm, nice. We'll play more, as soon as they're sending my hubbie home."

Marty watched as Jim's adam's apple bobbed.

"Now, I don't want Marty here being any more trouble, so I think we'll just restrict him a little more." From a clip on her belt she removed a heavy leather mask with studs and buckles on it. A companion piece to her own outfit probably.

Marty tried to back further into the surface behind him. "No, come on, you don't wanna do that?" Marty could feel his skin crawl in fear.

"You want me to shoot Detective Dunbar?" Smiling she turned the gun on Jim and pressed it neatly to his temple.

"You won't, you just said he's your ticket."

She gave Marty a really big smile. "They might even think faster if he's bleeding a little, don't you think?" She moved the gun from Jim's head and pointed them at his hands. "I can see it in your eyes, you think he's useless now, do you want to see how disabled your buddy is without his hands, Detective Russo?"

Marty's eyes darted from Puss to Jim. Jim wasn't smiling at all, the blood had drained from his face but he was silent. His head turned slightly from Puss to Marty. He said nothing, leaving the call to Marty just like they had planned. If she moved the gun closer. If Jim felt the barrel, maybe he could grab it and together they could overwhelm her, tied up or not. She had been fast before, at that range, one shot and Dunbar would be fucked.

Puss enjoyed the doubt so clearly running accross Russo's face. She licked her lips and a smile escaped. "I have seen what a gun like this can do to a beautiful pair of hands. So strong now." She trailed a blood red fingernail over the back of Jim's hand. "Would you like me to show you?" She cocked the gun. Marty could see Jim's rising tension, he was ready, all Marty had to do was make the call and Jim would move. Marty would get out of this okay but Jim ... "Answer me."

"No, I don't want to see that. I'll wear the mask." Marty forced himself to sit still as she secured a black leather hood over his head. It covered his eyes, had no holes for his mouth and only small holes for his nostrils. She pushed his head down and his reflexes made him push back. She stopped and he heard a clunk, the safety of her gun being released? He let his neck go limp in clear surrender. She tightened the mask with buckles at the back. Marty found his breath became hard to catch and panic began to bubble.

"Now, Marty boy, don't get agitated, a very good friend of mine once asphyxiated himself with one of those by getting a little too excited."

"What are you doing, Puss?" Jim felt something brush his mouth and smelled a fresh mint smell as she stroked a kiss on his lips before leaving.

"Now I've got two good boys here. I'm going off to make sure the drop off is set up nicely. Back soon."

The door slammed and the locks clicked. Jim could hear the sound of Marty breathing rapidly. "Marty? What's she done?" Then struggle, Marty rolling on the floor, muffled sounds.

Marty realized there was no way he could get this off alone. He stopped struggling.

"Marty, what's she done? Taped your mouth?"

"Mmmmm." Marty got on his knees and poked his head into Jim's chest. Jim raised his hands, and searched the mask. He grimaced as he felt the covered eyes, the covered mouth. Small buckles held it tight at the back; he undid them but didn't pull it right off.

"Marty, if I take it off, she'll notice and I think she's getting unstable. Can you breathe enough with it loose?"

"Yes," Marty's voice was muffled, "can't see."

Jim loosened the mask further. "Shit. We gotta get out here, this is getting worse." Jim hopped to the door, colliding with it but managing to stay on his feet. "The door; it opens out?"

"Yeah, out."

Jim started knocking it with his shoulder "Do you think together we could break it down?"

Marty recalled the door in his memory. Internal - probably. "Possible." Even he could barely understand his word. "Maybe" He tried to enunciate through the hot and sticky leather.

But before Marty could even get into position for them to try, the door opened and Jim pitched forward landing awkwardly on the floor at Puss's feet. "Here, pretty boy, let me help you up." She hooked her hand under his arm and helped him to his feet.

This was the moment; Jim took a breath, as she helped him rise he brought his tied hands up and over her head and down around her torso, pinning her arms to her side. The gun went off, and chips of tile spat up from the floor beneath them. Jim wrenched her off her feet, and spun her ninety degrees to whack her into the door. The gun landed heavily on the floor. "Marty?"

With the gunshots ricocheting in the dark around him, Marty felt helpless, frozen. He didn't know where to go, what to do. Had anyone been hit, what was happening? he fought to sort out the sounds surrounding him, adding tohis claustophia. He could hear Jim struggling with someone, the woman was cursing. Jim must have the better of her.

The panic subsided, Marty kicked the ropes from his feet and stood. Arms tied behind him, head covered in leather he stood and listened, tried to get his bearings. All he could hear was the struggle at the door, even that was muffled and indistinct.

He swung his head around to dislodge the mask, soon his mouth was clear and he could see downward but he couldn't get his arms untied and couldn't pull the mask off. "I'm okay, hang on I'm coming." He dragged in deep breaths of fresh air.

Moving forward Marty could see Jim's still tied legs and the woman's feet several inches above the floor. She was cursing and kicking at him, his shins must be blue by now. Marty moved and found the gun, he kicked it further away.

"Jim, I need your help to get this mask off all the way. I'm going bend down, you pull it off."

"Yeah, go ahead." Jim reached out behind her back.

With his head, Marty found her shaking shoulder; he placed it between her shoulder blades on the cool, smooth leather and ran down her back until he found Jim's hands. Her increasing struggles were making it hard to keep in position as Jim sought a hold on the mask that would allow him to lever it off.

Jim squeezed his arms tighter around her to lessen her movement.

"You're killing me," she wheezed.

"Sorry, Puss, I need you to hold still for a minute, then it won't be a moment longer, don't struggle." His tone was sincere and she ceased her struggles. With her still, Jim found the ties at the back of the mask and undid the remaining few swiftly.

Marty felt enormous relief as the mask came off and fell to the floor, he felt like he could move again, like he was free. He gulped in fresh air and shook his head. Puss began her struggles with renewed vigor. Jim continued to stand, holding the woman in the black leather close to him, off her feet, Jim's head tucked in under her chin. Their blonde heads close together, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Marty started to laugh. "Oh, Jim, I wish we had a picture of this!" Puss lifted her head and turned, sending Marty a glare that would strip the paint of an automobile. It left the grin on Jim's face uncovered for a moment.

Marty found himself sharing the expression. He never thought he'd be happy to see Dunbar's face but he was. "Jim, can you hang onto your girlfriend for a minute longer while I go find a way out of these ropes?"

"Sure, Marty." Jim's voice was muffled. "Come on Puss, can't we just stand here. You know struggling won't help now? If you're real good I can try and see if you can see your husband before you go to jail."

"He'd kill you if he knew you had your face buried in my chest."

"You going to tell him?" Jim asked in an innocent voice.

Marty ducked out, chuckling. He didn't really want to see what pain she would inflict on Jim next and he was sure Jim could handle it.

In the next room Marty found their belongings, his gun, their badges, radio, phones and Jim's glasses. There was also a knife among her belongings and he managed to get the rope cut and off his hands. He rubbed his wrists, and called out on the radio.

Walking in to release Jim, Marty found him perched on the side of the bath with Puss unconscious in his arms, her mask off and a thin line of blood running down her forehead. "Wow, Jim, she's a looker." She looked quite peaceful, and that costume was very… artistic, the way it clung and gaped. "What did you do? Squeeze her to death?"

Jim smiled and raised his head, an identical line of blood running down his forehead and in between the red kiss marks on his face. "No, she made the mistake of trying to head butt me. Mine's harder." Marty though he'd better not mention those kiss marks but couldn't help smiling as he untied Jim's bonds. "I spoke to the boss, Tom's alright, lost a bit of blood but it's a flesh wound. The lieutenant and Karen should be here soon."

Once freed of the ropes on his hands, Jim kept hold of Puss with his right arm under her and used his left to check her head where they had hit and then looked for a pulse. It was hard to find in the costume, so he brought his head to her chest. He smiled as his fingers finally found skin and it was warm, he didn't want to be handing over a corpse.

"Here they come." Marty looked up.

Jim cocked his head. "That doesn't sound like…"

Suddenly the room brightened as flashes went off and Marty turned to see several reporters snapping shots and one running a video. "Detective Dunbar, can you tell me her name, what happened?"

"Oh shit." Marty jumped up from where he had knelt to free Dunbar's ankles. This would not please the boss.

Jim's mouth pulled into a tight line. "Marty, could you…?"

"Already on it."

Marty got between Jim and the reporters, he moved them back out of the small bathroom and shut and bolted the door. "Here." He lifted the unconscious woman from Jim's arms and placed her into the bath. "She's really out cold." Jim removed the ropes from his ankles.

Marty handed Jim his glasses and a wet handkerchief. "Ah, you better clean you face up, you've got blood and …"

"And what?" Jim asked as he scrubbed at the cut on his forehead.

"Ah, you know those kisses?"

Jim shrugged.

"Definitely not budge proof."

"Oh, shit." Jim scrubbed harder.

Moments later there was a commotion outside and then a knock, "New York PD, open up."

"How's my…"

"Looks fine now." Marty waited until Jim had popped his glasses on and moved away from the bath. Then he opened the door. "Hey guys, nice to see you, she's in there." Marty showed his badge and pointed at the bath. "Come on, Dunbar, let's go find Karen and the Boss."

He pushed his elbow into Jim's arm as he'd seen Karen do. "Thanks." Jim was taken aback. "This means we're buddies now?"

"I wouldn't go that far, Dunbar, but let's just say, you weren't the worst cop to wake up in a bath with after all. And don't go quoting that. I'll just deny it."

Jim nodded and they headed out both grinning widely. _Who'd have thought?_


	5. Chapter 5

_Who'd have thought?_

Epilogue

At the end of the day, after Jim and Marty had their bruises and bumps seen to, Karen, Jim and Marty sat around Tom's hospital bed.

Fisk walked in. "Don't you ever rest?"

"Boss, well, we were just – " Karen stopped, mouth gaping like a goldfish, as Fisk pulled out a six pack of beer and tossed stubbies at Marty and Karen. "Jim, here's a beer for you." He stood it on Jim's knee. "You're not allowed I take it?" He gestured to Tom who pulled a sad face.

"Wow, thanks, Boss. What gives?" Marty had never seen this side of his boss, and he and Fisk had been working together for several years.

"Well, I got the official version, but from what the uniforms are not telling us I figure there's more to this story and this is the most likely place for me to hear it." Fisk looked serious as he took a long slug.

"Anyhow, I thought you guys would want to be off home by now, wives and all?"

Jim's head dropped and he shook it. "The uniforms let some reporter in with a camera while I still had her unconscious in my arms. From what Marty described, I have no desire to answer a single question from Christie tonight. I'm waiting 'til I know she's asleep!" He held out his beer and heard satisfying clinks as Karen, Marty and Fisk bumped their bottles to his.

Marty nodded looking from Jim to Lieutenant Fisk and then to Karen. "Good thinking, Dunbar. But you know she's going to see the newspapers tomorrow too?"

"Oh man." Tom complained, "I'm the only one who's single and I didn't get to see her. Her name really Puss?"

"That's what pretty boy called her." Marty tried to dodge Jim's punch but it landed.

"I don't know if it was worth being in her good books though, Dunbar took a beating. Hey, how are your shins?"

Jim gave them an exaggerated wince. "They match my blue suede shoes real well, Marty."

Tom pointed the remote at the TV in the corner of the room and the sound flared up, "…today as a masked woman took two of New York's finest hostage. This footage exclusive to CNN…" On the television the close up of Puss' face was most deceptive. Her head thrown back and her eyes closed her face was truly stunning and quite demure. Her hair fell around her in a soft halo. Then camera pulled back and revealed the sharp contrast of her body cradled in Jim's lap. The viewer could only see his blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, and tight across his shoulders and his hair tousled and blending in with hers as he leaned over her chest. Her legs sprawled behind him, long, encased in polished black leather and looking like she was the victim of a knife attack.

"Whoa! _She_ kidnapped you two? If I didn't know better, I'd say you guys organized this." Karen laughed out loud.

Tom and Gary were glued to the set. Marty would have thought he'd seen enough but something still held him.

The camera pulled back as Jim turned toward the door. His blue eyes wide he looked – caught. Marty groaned.

"What are those red marks on your face?" Dutifuuly, the camera zoomed in and Karen's eyes widened. "Oh, boy." She glanced at her partner, whose reputation had always contradicted what she knew of him but - "Jim, what were you doing?"

"He was checking for a pulse." Marty intervened.

"Well, that's going to be hard to sell."

"Oh, no." Jim put the cold beer to his temple. He could hear Christie's voice already.


End file.
